Stupid Irishman!
by The Stitched Ninja
Summary: It was my witch-gift, and for my people, for my land, I was more than willing to use it for Scotland...even with that stupid Irishman annoying me every chance he got! I could kill, make war, without regret...and I did with Wallace!
1. Chapter 1

Meave giggled as everyone danced this way and that, moving in time with the beat

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Meave….and she's nothing to be proud of.

Warnings: Gore, making fun of Irishmen, cursing, sex talks, war….the usual

Title: Stupid Irishman! (name subject to change…maybe)

Meave giggled as everyone danced this way and that, moving in time with the beat. She loved dancing, and dancing at a wedding seemed even better to her! Here the people seemed to forget what her and her family were and just enjoyed the evening.

Not that it really mattered.

Her family had proved time and time again that they were trust worthy, and not like other "witches". They weren't green, or old, or full of hate and bitterness. They didn't worship the devil or any other type of pagan gods that asked for sacrifices. They weren't going to suddenly cackle and turn normal human beings into frogs or any other type of unseemly creature.

However, that didn't mean they couldn't turn a human into something else…they just chose not to...

In fact, her family was more into healing, salves, potions and controlling the natural powers they were given. It seemed daily that people of the village would come and visit her family's cottage, seeking something. Last week it was a potion for conception; the week before it was a salve to ease the passing of an ill old man; and the week before that it was the healing of a farming injury.

But that seemed to come to a sudden stop, as the English had started moving into their small town…and Englishmen weren't as taken to the mystic arts as the Scottish or the Irish. In fact, where most Scott's just dealt with it or didn't mind or just didn't pay much attention to such things, the English were known to burn women at the stake and other means of torture.

"Meave!" A young maiden, sister to the bride, twirled up to Meave, another woman named Murron right behind her.

"Hello, young ones." Meave giggled at the two.

"Have you seen the stranger yet?"

"What stranger?" Meave wondered, casting a look around, and spotting him.

He was tall, as was most people compared to Meave, and had a light brown hair that was frizzy and framed his face. He looked strong in his kilt as he kept glancing at their gathered group…and more specificallyone young Murron.

Smiling secretly, seeing a match in the making; Meave leaned closer to the other woman, "He's noticing you…I sense another marriage."

The girls giggled happily, Murron even going as far as to lightly slap Meave's arm. Together the girls giggled, gossiped and just happily enjoyed the festivities…that was until Meave's mother stepped up to them.

Meave's mother, Ina, was known all throughout the surrounding clans as a Seer**. **Ina was deep into her art. No one could surpass her gifts, or even reach to her level. Just walking by her it caused people to pause and stare in admiration. Ina's demeanor demanded respect wherever she went.

And it was no wonder, with her tall stature (something Meave had failed to inherit) and black hair, it was hard not to notice Ina. Then, when she looked at you straight in the eye with her unnatural orange eyes, some say they were struck dumb with fear.

But, no matter how much respect, fear, or admiration Inareceived from others…she was just "Mum" to Meave and her siblings.

"Meave, I need you." Ina said in all seriousness, holding out a hand, palm up, for her daughter.

Slightly worried, Meave reached forward and took her mother's hand, and was lead away from the festivities.

"I need you to go home and get the anti-conception potion from the potion hut, quickly." Ina hurriedly ordered her daughter, slightly pushing her in the direction of home.

Nodding once, Meave turned and lifted her skirts, running off as quickly as she could. She wasn't like her brother, Blane, who could run at super speeds**, **so it would take some time for her, though she was fitand could keep up with the most of them.

It didn't take her long to reach the storage hut where all the potions and salves were kept for safe keeping, but it did take her a bit to find the right potion.Her mother was not one to keep an organized hut so everything was in orderly disarray for Ina, and a total mess to everyone else.

Luckily Meave at least somewhatunderstoodher mother's system of "organization" so with little difficulty she found the right potion and quickly made her way back to the party…and fortunately right on time for one of her mother's predictions to take place.

"I have come to claim the right of prima noctes! As Lord of these lands, I will bless this marriage by taking the bride into my bed on the first night of her union." Lord Bottoms, the reigning lord of their lands shouted, as some of his English soldiers laughed beside him.

Of course this set off the whole town, even making Morrison swing at a soldier, which caused him to immediately be held back.

Quickly, Meave walked behind the bride and slipped the potion in her hand, "Here, take this…it will ensure that no one but your husband will be the sire to your children."

"You there. Stay away from the bride!" One soldier shouted at Meave.

"Just honest advice for the bride…" Meave gave a scary fake smile, slipping into the crowd and towards her mother, who was standing far back from the English and wearing a self satisfied smirk on her pale face.

"Well done, daughter." Ina gave a nod, watching as the bride was taken away. "She was to become with child her very first time, luckily we were there to make sure it was her **husband** that was the sire of that child."

Meave nodded, standing beside her mother as everyone sobered and started to return to their homes. A few people cast them strange looks as they passed.

Not that Meave could blame them; she and her mother were quite a sight. They were the only two of their family left, Meave's father passed away long ago from a hunting accident. And all of Meave's siblings moved, either with new husbands, or to study abroad like most of their kind.

It used to be that every village had at least one family of witches.

Thus why Meave's family was so spread out. It was Meave's duty to carry on as this village's witch when her mother passed.

Meave had inherited much from her mother, though she did not hold her height and had hazel eyes, she did have the same black hair, white complexion and an ability to draw attention when necessary. They wore dresses of the black, creating a stark contrast with their pale skin. Together, their appearance, history and demeanor were a sight which made everyone stare.

"Come," Ina sighed, turning around and heading towards home, "We have much to do to get you ready."

This made Meave slightly worried, "Ready? Ready for what, Mother? Mother?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Meave….and she's nothing to be proud of.

Warnings: Gore, making fun of Irishmen, cursing, sex talks, war….the usual

Title: Stupid Irishman! (name subject to change…maybe)

Thanks go to my Beta for doing such a great job at everything I throw at her. Thank you, ScreamForSOH!

_**CHAPTER TWO:**_

"Meave, it's time you discovered your special gift." Ina said, as in a way of explaining herself to all that she had put her daughter through.

Soon Meave had forgotten her embroidery and potion making for a sword and dagger. She was being taught like any boy would about the art of war.

Meave had no clue how her mother knew so much about fighting and killing, just over all war, but she didn't dare ask. She wasn't stupid, her mother got respect for reasons, and those reasons were the exact same ones that made some people fear her mother.

So she just sucked up the pain of her soft hands becoming rough and callused. She bit her lip when she was stabbed or beaten in a battle with her mother. She didn't utter a single whimper when her muscles protested the whole way through her training. She didn't cry when she killed her first Englishman…

Meave glared evilly down at the soldier that had helped in the killing of Murron. Who would have thought she could kill a man with a dulled dagger used in potions…

"Why you little witch!" Another soldier shouted, running towards the girl.

Turning, with a blank look in her eye, Meave ducked the sword that would have taken her head then quickly shot up and sliced him across the neck.

Blood shot out and covered Meave's arm, droplets even landing on her face.

Nothing, she had thought that killing another human being would have affected her more…but it did not….

Looking off to the side, Meave saw Wallace dragging the magistrate that had killed poor Murron to the stake. She quickly caught up with him, standing just off to the side as he slit the man's throat.

After the deed was done, Wallace turned to Meave, since she was the closest to him.

"You fought."

Meave nodded, "I fought."

"Will you continue to fight? Even though you are a woman?"

"Would you like me to cut my hair and pretend to be a man?" Meave smirked, "I can wear a kilt, if you'd like that. Or try to deepen my voice. Either way, we'll both know the truth, a woman can fight and kill."

He nodded, "Aye, but that doesn't mean she should."

Meave glared at him, "Face it Wallace, you need me. My potions and salves are great for healing battle wounds. I'll be a great asset."

Finally he nodded, "Aye, but I won't like it."

The girl smiled happily; glad she was going through with her mother's wishes as the chant of "MacAulish" which somehow turned into "Wallace".

_**~TimeSkip~**_

His screams where the first thing that alerted Meave to know that someone had been injured in the fighting. This made her slightly worried, wondering how they were going to treat him.

She had no clue their ways were to different from hers.

"What are you doing!?" Meave gasped, quickly putting herself between the injured party and the men where were about to put a red hot poker in his chest.

The men stared at Meave as if she had gone mad.

Meave rolled her eyes, "I'm surrounded by idiots." She glared at them, "When someone is injured, come to me, I can heal them far better than this." She knelt beside the injured male, while pointing to another to get her healing bag.

Once she had all she needed, Meave went about rubbing a salve inside the man's wound, then poring a sickly green potion into the wound. It sizzled for a bit, before becoming quiet and surrounding the wound in a white puss that acted like a bandage.

"There," Meave nodded, "Keep that place as clean as you can and it should be fine within two days or so."

The other men stared at the young witch as she placed her things back in her bag, a deep frown marring her otherwise pretty features. Meave wasn't overly beautiful, but could be considered handsome in some senses of the word.

Suddenly a watch man spoke out, "There's somebody coming."

Quickly Meave slipped out a dagger from her boot, standing with the rest of the men, waiting. If there would be an attack, this would help defend herself until she stole some dead man's sword.

Watching the new arrivals appear, Meave heaved a sigh of relief just as Campbell, the man injured, informed everyone, "MacGregors, from the next clan."

So there wouldn't be a fight, which was just as well. Meave was much too tired to continue fighting for the night. Also, it seemed the MacGregor's wanted to join them. They would be a good addition to the fight that was to come. Meave no longer doubted her mother's words, she was to fight, and fight well for the freedom of her people.

Each witch of her family had a special gift no others did…and she had found hers. She was a soldier, she could kill without feeling. The perfect weapon…but still. There was some part of Meave that wished her gift was something more…flighty. Meave couldn't count the many times that she dreamed of flying through the sky.

_**~Time Skip~**_

The next fight Meave also took a little retribution in.

They got revenge on Lord Bottoms; the man who stole her friend's wedding night from her.

Dressed as a chamber maid, Meave infiltrated the fort and slipped information to Wallace, who led the attack on the fort dressed as a patrol leader. The others were all dressed as soldiers.

Meave wished she could have somehow caught Bottoms shocked expression when he got hit by William Wallace. He even looked at her, as if she was a way out…that was, until she pulled out her dagger and grinned evilly at him. Then he knew that he had been set up.

Grasping for anything that'll help him keep his life, Bottoms started babbling, "I have dispatched one hundred soldiers to Lanark. They will be returning now."

Meave couldn't help but give a snigger at him.

"Were they dressed like this?" William gestured, "Actually, it was more like fifty." He then turned to someone behind him, "Make it quick."

Morrison stepped forward, a murdering gleam in his eye. "You remember me?" He asked.

"I never did her any harm." Bottoms looked panicked, "It was my right."

"Your right? Well I'm here to claim the right as a husband." And with that Morrison swung a ball and chain, beating the other man to death. And, as a finishing touch that Meave felt was quite befitting, he spat on him.

"I am William Wallace." William stepped forward once again as Morrison stepped back, "The rest of you will be spared. Go back to England, and tell them there that Scotland's daughters and her sons are yours no more. Tell them Scotland is free. Burn it."

Letting out a mad laugh, Meave was only too happy to follow that order, actually skipping away from the fort as it burst into flames.

_**~Time Skip~**_

As the battles continued on, Meave found her place. She'd fight with the best of them; heal herself, than heal others. After that it would all repeat itself, battle after battle. Meave joked and conversed with all the men, becoming one of them.

Unfortunately, sometime during all this Meave started to wonder why exactly she was fighting. After all, it had been her mother who had forced her into fighting…so what was she, herself, fighting for.

It didn't really take her that long to find out that answer.

It kept happening again and again, the English attacking small village after small village, targeting her people. Women and children were favorite targets.

If there was nothing for her to fight for, Meave decided that she would fight for her people, the ones that couldn't defend themselves. She had a gift, the gift of fighting and killing heartlessly without any regrets…and she'd use every single one of those gifts to protect her people, the ones that couldn't protect themselves.

_**~ Time Skip~**_

Meave gave a smile as one of the men joked on another at evening meal after a long day, but it wasn't long until a heavy tense silence surrounded them and William spoke.

"You know, eventually Longshanks will send his whole Northern Army against us." William informed them, some nodding in agreement.

"Heavy cavalry, armored horse; shake the very ground." Campbell added.

"They'll ride right over us." Hamish shrugged.

"Uncle Argyle used to talk about it," William gave each of them a look, "how no army had ever stood up to a charge of heavy horse."

"So, what have you got in mind?" Meave asked, a smirk snaking onto her face.

"Hit, run, hide, the Highland way." Campbell told her as an answer.

Meave sighed; eating her bread, wondering if that'll be enough.

"We'll make spears."

The dark haired witch quickly looked at William, who was strangely looking up at the trees.

"Hundreds of them. Long spears, twice as long as a man." William grinned.

"That's pretty long." Meave muttered, looking down at her feet, thinking.

"Aye." William agreed with her.

"Some men are longer than others." Hamish frowned.

Suddenly Campbell gave a snort in laughter, "Your mother's been telling stories about me again, ah?"

The men all laughed at their old friend, which only got louder when Meave gave a shout of "ew!" followed by a disgusted face.

"Volunteers coming in."

Standing quickly, Meave frowned and watched as two commoners approached them, standing before William. It didn't escape her notice; either, that one of them had noticed her and was staring at her.

"William Wallace," One of the two spoke and bowed to William, which Meave thought was extremely strange, "we've come to fight and to die for ya."

"Stand up, man. I'm not the pope." William was actually embarrassed, making several of the men, and Meave, laugh.

The man stood a small smile on his face. "My name is Faudron, and my sword is yours. I brought you this."

Meave frowned and tensed suddenly, reaching for the dagger on her belt just as Hamish grasped Faudron's arm.

"We checked them for arms." One guard informed them and Hamish let go, but Meave still had a hand on her hip, just in case she needed her dagger.

Faudron smiled uneasily at them, "I brought you this. My wife made it for ya." He held out a small black and silver fabric thing, Meave didn't get a good look at it.

But whatever it was William seemed pleased and thanked the man.

Suddenly the Staring Man, as Meave had named him, appeared behind her, startling the young witch, laughing.

"Him? That can't be William Wallace." He moved away from Meave, but not before giving her a once over, and toward the pot, taking a taste from it. "I'm prettier than this man."

Meave snorted, highly doubting that, covering it up with a cough that had everyone looking at her. Blushing slightly, she covered her mouth, hiding her smile, and with the other hand held up one finger, "Sorry," She coughed out, "Something must have caught in my throat." She continued for a moment, before going quiet.

But the man ignored her and just looked toward the sky, "Alright Father, I'll ask him." He turned and faced William, "If I risk my neck for you, will I get the chance to kill Englishmen?"

Hamish looked confused, as everyone else, but spoke before anyone had the chance, "Is your father a ghost, or do you converse with the Almighty?"

"In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God." He looked heavenward again, "Yes, Father." Back to them on the ground, "The Almighty says don't change the subject; just answer the fucking question."

"Mind your tongue." Hamish snapped, sending Meave a look to see if she was insulted at all.

But, since Meave wasn't exactly a normal woman, she didn't look fazed in the least by the cursing.

"Insane Irish." Campbell frowned, shaking his head.

Said Irishman laughed, "Not as insane as you Scots for allowing a woman to fight."

"Aye, they allow it." Meave spoke up, getting a surprised look from Faudron, who had just noticed her. "But it takes an Scottish woman to stand up there on the front line, fight like the best of them, survive it all, then get back to heal herself **and** the men. Obviously you've been in Ireland too long, you insane Irishman, or you would know that women here are much different."

This answer got laughter from those gathered that knew Meave, that was…until the Irishman suddenly pulled a dagger and pressed it to Meave's throat.

The young girl gasped, staring up at him, her face reddening slightly as he stared back at her with some unknown emotion in his eyes.

"But the insane Irishman was smart enough to get a dagger past your guards, Wallace." He muttered, stepping closer to Meave.

"That's my friend, Irishman." William spoke gravely, holding a sword to the mans throat as all those gathered were doing the same thing. "And the answer to your question is "yes"; if you fight for me you get to kill the English."

Suddenly the Irishman's face lit up like the heavens, "Excellent!" He spoke almost giddily, putting his dagger away and stepping back from Meave, who was still glaring at him, "Stephen is my name. I'm the most wanted man on my island, except I'm not on my island, of course. More's the pity."

"Your island?" Hamish looked doubtful; Meave couldn't say she didn't agree with him. "You mean Ireland?"

"Yeah." Stephen gave a nod, a mad gleam in his eye, "It's mine."

"You're a mad man." Hamish gave a laugh.

"I've come to the right place, then." Stephen grinned making them all laugh.

All but Meave, who stepped coyly up to Stephen, "Aye, the right place, but…I'm afraid you did one thing wrong."

Stephen turned a sly look at her, no doubt thinking some very not so innocent thoughts. "Yes, and what would that be?"

Suddenly Meave kneed him right in the middle of his legs, "Well, you touched me…when I didn't give you permission to touch me. Usually this is punishable by death, but, I figure since you're helping us kill off the Englishmen, I'll let it slide for now. Just don't be doing it again, Irishman."

Then, with a humph, Meave turned to tend to her horse, ignoring the laughter behind her.

It wasn't until later that night when William informed them that Faudron tried to kill him, only for William to get saved by "The Irishman", as he was now referred to in Meave's mind.

At the time, Meave had been making a potion to heal burns and, of course, had to make a smart comment about said Irishman, who jumped up to defend himself. This lead to a battle of words between the two which lead to much laughter between the men.

Soon, much to Meave's disappointment, this became a norm between everyone.

_**~Time Skip~**_

It was sunset when word came on the advancement of the English. Meave was just finishing bandaging up a young lad when Hamish and Morrison approached Wallace with the news.

"William, it's several runners." He began, and Morrison finished for him.

"The English are advancing an army toward Stirling."

"I like Stirling, reminds me of metal…" Meave muttered to herself, focusing on her work as some of the men sent her grins.

"Will the nobles rally?" Wallace asked, getting straight to business.

The runner spoke, "Robert the Bruce and most of the others will not commit to battle. But word is spread, and the highlanders are coming down on their own."

"Aye," Morrison agreed, "In droves of hundreds and thousands."

"Too bad they don't know we got infected with an Irishman." Meave muttered sadly, finishing her work and turning to the others, who sent her amused looks.

William grinned at her, chuckling before facing his men with a slightly insane grin, which Meave thought was the Irishman's doing, "Are you ready for a war?"

"It's my one true gift, of course I'm ready." Meave laughed as the men cheered.

"No one really wanted to know that, witch." The Irishman said innocently as he passed. This statement, of course, got Meave into a heated argument with him as the other men sat back and laughed at their expense.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Meave….and she's nothing to be proud of.

Warnings: Gore, making fun of Irishmen, cursing, sex talks, war….the usual

Title: Stupid Irishman! (Name subject to change…maybe)

This hasn't been beta'd by my Beta ScreamForSOH yet! I was just too impatient and decided to update anyway! Lol So, please, if there is anything I need to correct, just let me know. Other than that, please excuse anything that might be wrong.

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

"Stupid Irishmen." Meave grumbled unhappily, grumpily smashing herbs and roots into a paste.

She was angry at the moment, very angry. The stupid Irishmen had once again said something against her being there, fighting against the English. He had said she really didn't have a reason to be there—in front of everyone!

Sure, at first she had thought that very thing! Her mother had forced her into fighting and made her into a killer. She had had no real reason to fight…and than she traveled with the men.

She had seen what the English could do to her people. She had seen lives that had been disrupted or ruined. She had felt their anguish…heard their cries!

That was why she fought, that was why she killed. She did it so her people could live in peace, sleep soundly at night, have a future.

So what if she was a girl? She could fight with the best of them! Her mother had trained her well, and that's all that really mattered.

Suddenly Meave heard soft chuckling, startling the young witch which caused her to quickly reach for the dagger that was beside her. Looking up Meave's eyes widened in shock as the English Soldier stared down at her, a certain gleam in his eye.

She really shouldn't be surprised to find an English Soldier here, after all there was a battle tomorrow and William had warned them countless times about scouts…Why hadn't she listened?!

He quickly got a surprised look on his face, holding up his hands as if to say that he was harmless, never mind the sword that was strapped to his side. "Oh, no…No need for that, little missy—I won't harm you."

Meave did not lower her dagger.

The soldier frowned unhappily at that, "I didn't realize there was a village near here." He went on, trying to ease Meave. "Do your parents know you're out here, alone, at this late hour?"

"Aye, Englishmen, she knows." Meave reported in a monotone, knowing it was best not to get him too frustrated. She didn't want him to lose his temper and try to rape her.

He pretended to pout, "That's no fun, girlie, my names Alric, what might yours be?"

"Miss Sancler." Meave stated shortly.

"Oh, Miss Proper, aren't you?" He joked, leaning down to look into the bowl where her paste had been made. "What you have in there, Miss Sancler?"

Meave chose to ignore the emphasis he had put on her name, "Healing paste…for a potion."

This shocked the soldier, causing him to straighten and back away in fear, "Potion? No…you must mean something else. I know you Scott's are savages—but certainly not Witches!" He got an angry look in his eye, reaching for his sword, "I'm sorry, girlie, but I'll have to take you--"

Suddenly arms wrapped around and retrained the soldier; a dagger appeared at his throat, stopping him completely, "No where, ye'll be taking her no where."

Meave's eyes widened at the voice, how did the Irishmen of all people find her?!?

The soldier glared out of the corner of his eye, opening his mouth to shout—but was stopped short when Meave suddenly pointed her dagger at him, in a more…personal place.

"Silence is the key, Englishmen." She growled out to him, pressing the tip of the dagger to his manhood. Once she was sure that he wouldn't say a thing, she turned her glare at the other male behind him, "And you! What are you doing here, Irishmen?"

Stephen glared at Meave, "Father told me I have to come save you!"

"I didn't need saving." Meave growled out.

He gave out a loud "HA!" "Not from where I'm standing, Witch."

"No one asked you to interfere!" Meave huffed pressing closer in her heated anger.

"Well someone has to look after you." Stephen hissed, also coming closer—neither noticed how uncomfortable the English Soldier was becoming.

"Well why does it have to be you?"

"B-Because father told me it had to be me."

For some strange reason, this hurt Meave. Her chest felt heavy and her eyes were burning with unshed tears. "Y-You're a horrible person Stephen Feherty—you horrible Irishmen!" Meave shook her head, turned and gathered her materials before turning and walking away. She knew that Stephen would be okay with the scout, so she quickly left and didn't look back.

Later that night, at camp, neither Meave nor Stephen could look at each other, which of course caught everyone's attention, since the norm had become that the two would argue till the early morning hours.

_**~Time Skip~**_

Meave gave a flirty smile to the soldiers as they road past, flipping her hair to one shoulder and held her head up high. She knew she was drawing attention, in her kilt-like attire and riding with William Wallace and his brood, not to mention she was a woman.

She was hoping as it continued on, she'd be as common as stories of William and people would start over looking her…

Who was she kidding? There was a part of Meave that loved the attention that she got when ridding into battle and others stared because they couldn't believe a woman could fight.

"William Wallace?" She heard someone ask in wonder as they passed, everyone but her done up in the best of war paint blue.

"Can't be." Someone answered, "Not tall enough."

Meave felt a laugh coming but effectively snuffled it, so as not to offend anyone. Obviously the stories had gotten more outrageous as they kept being told. Soon William would be taller than two long spears, twice as strong, and would be able to kill thousands of men with just one swing of his sword.

Inaccurate, but still…it would be funny to hear.

"The Almighty says this must be a fashionable fight." Stephen happily informed them, looking up and around as they rode up to the nobles, "It's drawn the finest people."

"You and your Almighty." Meave grumbled, glaring at him, "Can't you talk about something else, or better yet: TO someone else?"

But before they could really start in on yet another argument, Lochlan spoke up, "Where is thy salute?"

The first thought was to wonder why he talked like that.

"For presenting yourselves on this battlefield, I give you thanks." William told him, looking quite sure of himself.

"This is our army." Lochlan snapped with a disgruntled look on his face, "To join it you give homage."

Again, Meave wondered why he was talking so strange.

"I give homage to Scotland. And if this is your army, why does it go?" William turned his question on the troops, which was exactly what Meave was wondering.

"We didn't come here to fight for them." One veteran soldier spoke up, quickly followed by his fellows in agreement.

"Home. The English are too many." The young one beside him was able to shout over everyone else and be heard.

"Sons of Scotland, I am William Wallace."

"William Wallace is 7 feet tall." The young soldier scoffed, causing some of them to chuckle.

William joined them, "Yes, I've heard. He kills men by the hundreds, and if he were here he'd consume the English with fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from his arse. Unfortunately, Hamish over there is the tallest, and our little honey bee over here could kill much more than me."

Meave looked up as he gestured to her, smiling slightly and waving at the soldiers, distracted slightly because the Irishman was staring at her again, the bastard. Although, she was impressed that William's version of himself was much better than her own.

"Aye, men beware!" Stephen laughed, moving so his horse was beside Meave's, "She's a harpy that will gut you as soon as she looks at you!"

Without missing a beat, Meave looked over at him and asked in the most serious and innocent voice she could pull, "Then why haven't I gutted you yet?"

"I am William Wallace," William quickly butted in before Meave and Stephen started arguing once again, thus making they stand there all day as they did so, "and I see a whole army of my countrymen here in defiance of tyranny. You have come to fight as free men, and free men you are. What will you do with that freedom? Will you fight?"

"Fight against that? No, we will run, and we will live."

Meave didn't get to see who said that, but if she had she would have sent them a disapproving look.

"Aye, fight and you may die, run and you'll live. At least for a while." William nodded, looking as if he was thinking about it, than determinedly glared at them, the fire in his eyes. "And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one chance to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom?! Alba gu bra!"

Meave happily repeated the cheer, believing it in her heart to be true.

Galloping away form the troops so they wouldn't hear, they then decided what to do next.

"Fine speech." The Irishman informed, and Meave was loathed to agree, "Now what do we do?"

Again, Meave was loathed to agree, but she did with the Irishman.

"Just be yourselves." He grinned at them as he turned his horse to the field.

"Where are you going?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Meave frowned worriedly as William continued forward.

"I'm going to pick a fight." He laughed, riding away from them.

"Well, we didn't get dressed up for nothing." Hamish joked.

"Well, you got dressed up," Meave looked between the men, then stuck out a pale leg, "I got dressed down, so I don't know what you're talking about!"

Laughter was heard, even the Irishman laughed, as they joined the troops, waiting for the word.

It didn't take long before William and the nobles rode back to them, William joining their ranks between Hamish and Stephen, Meave on the other side of Stephen by some random soldier. So Meave assumed that they would be fighting, and as she knelt down to pray with the men, she felt as if this fight would be different…much different.

And, of course, it only took moments to realize exactly how it was different. The English decided that archers would be their first move and the Scot's decided theirs…..by raising their kilts to the enemy.

Sighing, Meave covered her eyes with one hand, making sure she was blind to the men at her side as she stared ahead of them, refusing to admit that she was blushing.

So, of course, Stephen noticed, "Never seen a real man before, Witch?" He asked her, a kind joke in his tone that Meave wasn't used to coming from him.

"I'll let you know when I see a real man, Irishman." Meave joked back, a small smile on her face. If the Irishman was willing to play nice, then so would she. After all, this could be the very last battle they fought.

Highly insulted, The English let loose their arrows. As they flew towards them, Meave and her people quickly hid behind their shields, some getting hit and moaning. Fortunately, Meave's shield was strong and covered her effectively.

"The Lord says He can get me out of this mess," Meave heard Stephen say to William, "but He's pretty sure you're fucked. Ah!"

Meave sent the Irishman a queer look as he gave the most awkward laugh that the woman had ever heard. "Shouldn't you be worried that the "get you out of this mess" entitles you dying, Irishman?"

Stephen quickly turned to her as everyone rose from the ground, the arrows having stopped, "Father won't have me die when I have so much to do here, so much to live for."

Meave couldn't help but feel as if she was missing something, something big and having to do with her. Blushing slightly, Meave was just about to ask what the Irishman meant when everyone turned their back to the English and promptly mooned them.

Face burning bright red, Meave quickly turned her face heavenward and tried to convince herself that she must have been having a nightmare for having gotten such a good look at an Irish backside.

Suddenly arrows were right in front of Meave's face she barely had time to cover herself before she got attacked.

"Bloody fucking English." She muttered darkly, pitying any soul that got shot while his kilt was still up.

"I agree with you, Witch." Stephen grinned at her as they stood up from the attack, Meave looking with regret at her shield, it held up, but looked like it might need replacing soon.

"I'd be worried why you're here if you didn't, Irishman." Meave admitted, facing the fight and noticing they were bringing out the heavy horses, "Well, more than usual, that is."

"Aye, I do the same to you." Stephen grinned madly, causing Meave to roll her eyes, wanting so bad to just start arguing with him right now…but currently they had a battle to win and were being charged at.

"Hold!" William ordered, glaring ahead of them, "Hold! Hold!" Then, just as the English closed in William shouted, "NOW!"

Picking up a long spear from the ground, Meave braced it and watched as the horses crashed into hundreds, just like her own, throwing their riders, who would be easily defeated by the Scots since they were still stunned.

Than came the fun part.

The English had had enough of Meave and her people, so they sent in the infantry. This was perfect for Meave, who was better at close hand to hand battle than anything.

Running up to a random Englishman Meave attacked him without even blinking an eye, stunning him as he realized that he was fighting a woman, which she was banking on. Nine times out of ten they would be stunned, than under estimate her, causing their own death.

"But…But your--!"

Grinning like a mad man, Meave beheaded him on the ground, quickly going on to the next Englishman, not even bothering to answer him. And glancing around, Meave realized that they would be winning this one as well. They were slaughtering the English!

Killing again with just one swoop of her sword, Meave suddenly found herself face to face with the Irishman.

"Having fun, Irishman?" Meave asked as they brought themselves back to back for protection.

"Aye, and you, Witch?"

"Oh, I believe I'm having a gay old time." The young witch laughed merrily, gutting someone and watching as they were brought to the ground.

"Well that's good, The Lord says that you'll live through this, but you have to watch your back." And with that the stupid Irishman disappeared.

Meave didn't really pay attention to the Irishman that babbled more than anything, just continued to fight as she was taught. She continued, killing men left and right, living up to her "harpy" nickname that the Irishman liked to caller, long after the men on the horses returned. They were doing very well; with only a few men dead….and then Campbell lost his hand.

Immediately, Meave felt the need to go to Campbell and heal him. That was part of her job and the sooner she healed him, the better with that wound—and then all Meave knew was pain.

Apparently, someone had snuck up behind her while she was distracted and sliced her back up, causing the woman to give out a painful scream.

Those close faltered in their fighting, glancing at the woman arching away from the blade, then turn with a evil mad gleam in her eye and slice the mans neck, ignoring the blood that was now coating the back of her battle uniform. She looked like a demon at that moment, going on a pain filled rampage and killing men as quickly as possible. Striking them down as soon as she was in range of them, blind to nothing else, a war cry in her throat.

Gritting her teeth, Meave looked around her after coming down from her pain filled high of fighting, only to realize they had won. Only then did she allow herself to relax slightly, wincing at the tension that it caused the cut on her back, she'd have to clean that up and heal it as soon as possible.

Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, Meave grinned as William stood before his troops and stared cheering, quickly joining in. She hardly noticed the Irishman migrating his way toward her as the screams turned into "WALLACE!" once more.

"Alright?"

The dark haired woman turned to the Irishman and gave a small nod, trying to calm her breathing. "Got hit in the back, but other than that, I'll be fine. I should be able to treat the others fairly soon."

"Told you, you should have watched your back!" The Irishman, in all his annoying glory, sing-songed as he walked away from her, lucky that Meave only gave a frustrated cry instead of charging at him.

After all, she did have a sword in hand.

_**~Time Skip~**_

Meave gave a gasp, safe in her tent, as she slowly removed her shirt. She was the only one allowed a tent, mainly because she was a woman and didn't want people to see her change. It wasn't much, but it allowed her some privacy which at the moment was a good thing considering that she was naked from the waist up.

Taking out a small hand held mirror Meave stole from an Englishman and now kept in her traveling bag, Meave tried to maneuver it just so, so she could properly guess at the damage that had been done to her back.

From what she could see, it was a large cut going across her back, but little else. It didn't look that deep now that she had cleaned up as much as possible…the problem was that she couldn't reach just by herself on some of the cut. Water was fine, it ran down her back, cleaning away the blood….but the thick paste that she needed to apply wouldn't be able to do that.

"Alright in there, Witch? The Almighty said you might need me."

How does he do that? Meave wondered, picking up a blanket and covering her front, glaring over at the entrance of her tent. He couldn't have had a peep hole, could he? No, Meave had checked for those…then how did he?

Well, either way, he was a helping hand that was needed right now. Meave made the choice between their modesty and her back. If it didn't get healed soon she would be in the threat of being crippled her whole life.

"As a matter of fact, Irishman, I do need help. Come here." Meave checked to make sure that she was properly covered; her back to the entrance of the tent and looking over her shoulder as Stephen slowly peeked through the flaps.

For a long moment Stephen just stared at her, mouth open…that was until Meave glared and snapped at him. Then he gently entered the tent, making sure that that the flap didn't open too much least everyone get a good look at a half-dressed Meave.

"Just hurry up, spread this over and around the wound." Meave passed him the paste, moving her hair out of the way and facing ahead of her.

There was a long moment where no one moved, where all Meave heard was their own breathing. The air around them seemed tense and filled with something that she couldn't name…and the dark haired woman wasn't sure she wanted to name it. He was far too close to her, almost breathing down her neck, Meave turned to tell him to back off but the words caught in her throat as she looked at him over her shoulder.

He was staring intently at her, as if waiting for something.

But nothing happened, they just sat like that for the longest moment, Meave's eyes wide and Stephen's eyes intent….and then it was broken.

"Are you two okay in there?" William asked, as he and the other men that were uninjured waited outside the tent, "We don't hear any arguing…"

Snapping back to the present, Meave glared at Stephen as she answered, "That's because the Irishman is being so stupid I can't look at him, let alone talk to him."

"Oh will you just shut your trap, you Witch." Stephen rolled his eyes, picking up the paste and starting to apply it evenly on her back.

Meave gave out a hiss at the feeling of the cold paste in her wounds, causing the men outside to wonder what was going on.

"I hate you!" Meave growled out, half to reassure those outside and half because she just really hated the Irishman and wanted him to know it.

"Aye, you keep telling me." Stephen chuckled, slapping her back lightly, causing Meave to arch away with a hiss, "But if you had just listened to me and Father than you wouldn't be in this position, now would you?"

Meave growled, "I don't listen to the insane babblings of an Irishman!"

As Stephen finished he heavily placed his hand on Meave's shoulder, "It may be insane, but it was correct." He told her, turning his back so she could get dressed and washing his hands in a small bowl off to the side.

Slipping on her dress, Meave was careful to keep herself covered before kicking Stephen out of her tent and onto the ground. She grabbed her healing bag as she walked over him, her head held high and refusing to even glance at him, ignoring Stephen completely even if he was glaring after her.

She had work to do; she didn't have time to worry about him.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Meave….and she's nothing to be proud of.

Warnings: Gore, making fun of Irishmen, cursing, sex talks, war, not beta'd….the usual

Title: Stupid Irishman!

_**CHAPTER FOUR**_

Later that night Meave was exhausted. More men than she thought had been injured and she about spent her whole magical recess just to heal them; meanwhile everyone around her was celebrating a win.

She had nothing wrong with them celebrating, she only cared when all she wanted to do was sleep and couldn't because one male or another would come up to her and ask for a dance.

Really, she started to hate dancing with a burning passion. All she wanted to do was congratulate William, who was getting a knighthood and was part of the reason they were celebrating, then go to her tent and sleep until dawn three days from then.

But no, for every time she got up someone would come up and ask for a dance, or ask where she was going, or just plain follow her. Frankly, they were all way too drunk for her tastes.

"Are you sure you don't want to dance, lass?" Campbell asked once again, seeing her look and wishing to rescue her from the young lad that seemed attached at her side.

Thinking that dancing with Campbell, who now only had one hand but was doing fine thanks to Meave's healing, was the lesser of two evils, Meave reached out to take his good hand when she was suddenly swept away by The Irishman!

"You must really love me insulting you." Meave growled as she followed the steps of the dance, glaring at Stephen as he matched her step for step.

"Aye, The Almighty says that I need you to take down my ego a peg or two."

"Or ten." Meave hissed, quickening her pace, surprised that Stephen matched her.

Surprised, Meave stepped up to the mental challenge, going through the steps of the dance much quicker than was called for. Unfortunately, Stephen met her step for step, even made them go quicker as they started to attract attention from those gathered.

"They fight even when they dance!" Someone shouted with a laugh, watching as the two circled each other before moving away to complete more steps of the dance.

The poor musicians were getting extremely tired and out of breath as Meave and Stephen started to go faster, almost unable to move at their pace. Luckily, as they came to the slower part of the dance, Stephen and Meave slowed down, circling and staring at each other. The air around them seemed tense with some unknown feeling.

Off to the side, William grinned and nudged Hamish, gesturing with his head over at the two people with a secret smile.

Hamish was confused at first, but after getting a look at the two, still circling each other slowly, matched William's grin with his own, winking at him. "Won't be long now." He whispered.

Suddenly they heard a shout, causing them to look at the two dancing only to see Meave ending the dance, and Stephen on the ground as those around them laughing at his expense.

"Really, Irishman, if you couldn't keep up with me, why did you ask to dance?" Meave teased, hands on her hips as she sneered down at him.

"Silly me, I thought harpies were more awkward out of water." Stephen got up, dusting himself off and looking upward as he often did when The Almighty talked to him.

Meave gave a glare and a humph before storming away to her tent, turning in for the night.

Once again William and Hamish shared a look, than promptly started to take bets on how soon Stephen and Meave would start to court each other, which Campbell and Morrison overheard, thus making them join in on the bet.

"Well, what about you?" William asked the sky, asking as if in a jest.

"That woman is infuriating! If you would even call that thing a woman!" Stephen grumbled as he sat beside his friends, glaring at the ground before looking up. Slowly a confused look over came his features as he turned to William, "The Lord says to tell you a fortnight…What is going on, Wallace?"

The men gathered, and in on the bet, laughed and assured Stephen it was nothing. They continued long into the night.

_**~Time Skip~**_

After every battle there was a need for horses, so it really shouldn't have surprised Meave that the nearest town on their way to the castle in Edinburgh they went to the men headed straight for the house with the horses. What she didn't expect was that the owner of said horses had daughters.

Daughters that had never seen another girl their age with Meave's dark hair.

The instant they had seen Meave, dirty and grimy like all the men, they had separated her from the rest and forced her into the house. And no manner of pleading to the others could have saved her.

The two girls giggled, gossiped, and fussed over Meave. Forcing the girl to wash several times before sitting before them so they could do Meave's hair.

"Our mother was an Irish Noble. She gave up everything to move here and live with our father." One girl, the oldest by a few years, babbled then frowned deeply. "Unfortunately, Mum was killed by those rotten English…"

"You fight the English, right?" The youngest leaned forward, as if she was whispering a great secret to Meave.

The dark haired girl nodded, trying not to wince when they pulled her hair too much.

"Good," They both said, nodding at the same time, "Then give them hell for us, aye?"

Numbly, Meave nodded and finally submitted fully to the two girls.

Their story wasn't that much different than many others, and only added to the fire that was inside Meave. Since her very first visit to a village that the English had ruined she had decided that she finally had a reason to fight…for her people, her kin. She knew she'd do anything to make them happy…and right now that was allowing these girls to dress her up like a doll.

Two hours later, Meave was led to the door, not believing all they had done to her.

"Gentlemen and…Gentlemen." The youngest daughter giggled, deciding that Meave needed an introduction. "I give you…The fair Lady Meave."

Shielding her eyes from the sudden difference in light, Meave heard several intakes of breath. She waited a moment before lowering her hand and facing her friends…who were staring at her as if she had gone insane.

"What?" Meave asked, looking down on herself to make sure that she hadn't already gotten the dress dirty.

No, it was the same forest green nobles dress with a gold belt that had the trinity knot sewn into it. The sleeves flared out at the elbow and the neckline was square. Meave's black hair had been braided and was over one shoulder. Over all she thought she looked fine…as an Irish Noble.

The youngest girl giggled, taking Meave's elbow and leading her towards the men, "I think they are just now realizing you're a woman."

"Huh?" Meave cast the woman a curious expression as she pushed in front of the men.

The dark haired girl stumbled a bit, having tripped on her dress, but righted herself and looked at William who was in front of her. To his right and left were Stephen and Hamish, and they were all staring at Meave in total shock.

"What?" Meave said uneasily, her face heating in a blush.

"Father…you have done well." Stephen gasped out, shaking his head.

Meave turned to glare at him, "What are you talking about, Irishman?"

He gave a smile, stepping forward and cupping Meave's chin till she looked up at him, "You look better as an Irishwoman than an Irish women do." And then he kissed her cheek before walking away and leaving them all shocked.

Meave took on a worried expression, biting her lip as she watched him walk away, "Um…is he ill?" She asked the rest of the men, only to have them laugh at her.

_***Stephen's POV***_

He really didn't know why they had to wait for the girl—Stephen had thought that they should have made camp somewhere by now and instead they were waiting for the stupid witch to make an appearance.

"Shouldn't we-?" Stephen began to suggest.

"No, we shouldn't leave her behind." William interrupted him, crossing his arms and staring at the door of the small housing.

Stephen sighed, also crossing his arms and sitting back for a long wait.

And, finally, after two hours the door finally opened and the youngest daughter came out of the house and announced Meave with a giggle, "I give you…The Fair Lady Meave." And then she stepped out of the way.

Then all at once Stephen felt his heart skip a beat. In all his life, Stephen never saw a woman so beautiful. He never thought that a Scottish woman would ever look as good in Irish clothing as Meave did right then.

The Irish Noble clothing was a little big on her, granted, but the green fabric looked like silk and seemed to form just for her. The belt, with the trinity knot etched into it, hung from her hips—giving her far more of a figure than her normal clothing. And her hair, God her hair! It looked so smooth and soft to the touch, even braided, it made Stephen want to just reach out and touch it.

Stephen gave a gulp as Meave looked confused as to why she was being stared at. His mouth was suddenly so very dry.

"I think they're just now realizing you're a woman." The youngest daughter told Meave with a giggle, leading her forward.

"Huh?" Meave tried to look at the other woman, but she had already been pushed in front of them, and managed to stumble just a bit. And "just a bit" turned out just enough to allow them to see the significant bulge of her chest.

Stephen's blood ran cold…and then burning hot.

'She's beautiful, huh?' A voice seemed to whisper on the wind, a sure sign that The Almighty was talking to him, 'A little too short than I originally planned, but I must say…She is one of the few humans I made with pride.'

Meave looked a little frightened as they continued to stare at her, something that Stephen realized he didn't rightly like.

"What?" The woman mumbled out, blushing and worrying on her braid unconsciously. Stephen noticed that her blush went all the way down her neck and dyed her chest red as well.

Speaking as if in a trance, Stephen answered The Lord, "Father…you have done well."

"What are you talking about, Irishman?" Meave glared at him, once again reminding him how much of a hellion she could be.

Smiling, Stephen stepped forward and took her chin, forcing the woman to look up at him, "You look better as an Irish woman than Irish women do." And then he kissed her cheek before walking away and leaving them all shocked.

'Yep, a fortnight at the least.'

"What?" Stephen mumbled, deep in thought as he took his horse and started to walk away, passing by the two daughters, who were carrying a large trunk, as he did so.

'Nothing, just go back to daydreaming…imagine her on the sandy beaches! Oh what a sight!'

And, once again, Stephen's blood was hot.

_**~Meave's POV~**_

Watching Stephen walk away, Meave almost didn't notice that the daughters were loading something on a cart.

"Um, ladies? What are you doing?" Meave asked, picking up her skirts and walking over to them.

"Giving you clothes."

Meave stared at them, "We have no room to keep all these clothes! We battle, not play dress up!"

"It's alright, Meave." William laughed, trotting over on his new horse, "That trunk won't take up too much room, and we'll ship it back to your house as soon as we can."

The dark haired woman turned to glare at Wallace, and he was Wallace now that she was mad at him, and would have retorted, if it wasn't for the two daughters quickly rushing her away to teach her how to ride with a skirt on.

It would be a long way to Edinburgh…

_**~Time Skip~**_

"I knight thee Sir William Wallace. Sir William, in the name of God we declare and appoint thee guardian and high protector of Scotland and they Captains as aides-de-camp. Stand and be recognized." Craig declared with a happy smile and handed William (Meave was no longer mad at him) with three necklaces to appoint his Captains.

As a woman, Meave wasn't allowed to be a Captain, no matter how much she wanted to…but, then again she didn't know if she would be able to do the job. So as William stood to place the necklaces on Hamish, Campbell, and Stephen's necks, Meave stood off to the side of them, clapping and cheering with the rest of them.

Happy that they were finally being recognized, Meave quickly dove into the happy gathering of William and his most trusted, giving him a warm hug and a congratulatory kiss to the cheek.

"Congratulations, William!" She shouted happily, moving to hug Hamish and Campbell, kissing them as well and completely overlooking Stephen. "Sorry, I try not to touch the Irish."

The men laughed as Stephen suddenly gathered her into a great hug, lifting her off the ground and making her back crack.

"What was that?" Stephen joked after setting her down.

Meave moaned, "Ouch…"

Suddenly a Balliol supporter stepped forward, calling William's attention. "Inasmuch as you and your captains hail from a region long known to support the Balliol clan; may we invite you to continue your support and uphold our rightful claim?"

Meave raised one eyebrow, straightening her Irish dress and wondering what that had been about. Seriously, she could not understand what these nobles said most of the time!

"Damn the Balliol Clan! They're all Longshanks' men!" Mornay shouted, which of course caused everyone to start screaming and arguing.

Not wanting a confrontation on his hands, William bravely stepped forward, holding his arms up as a way to grab attention and show he was peaceful, "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" he shouted.

"Now is the time to declare a king." Some Balliol shouted over the cries.

"Wait!" Mornay glared at him, "Then you are prepared to recognize our legitimate succession."

"You're the only ones who won't support the rightful claim."

And thus more screaming.

"Oh, no. That's the truth."

Mornay stepped forward, "Those were lies when you first wrote them."

"I demand recognition of these documents." The Balliol supporter waved something in his hand.

Still confused over what they were going on about, but sick and tired of the bickering, Meave turned with William and the rest of the men to leave. She delicately lifted her skirts to walk up the steps, not really noticing that Stephen had taken her elbow to help her. She'd accept any offers of help in these dresses that those horse daughters had given her. They were all too big for her and until she could get them hemmed, she'd have to lift them or accept help where ever she went.

"Wait!" Suddenly a voice, Craig's, shouted from behind, causing them to pause and look behind them, "Sir William, where are you going?"

"We have beaten the English," William informed them, "but they'll come back because you won't stand together."

Oh, well that explained a lot, now Meave wasn't so much in the dark as before.

"Well what will you do?"

"I will invade England and defeat the English on their own ground." William informed those gathered, Meave thought it was a good plan.

"Invade? That's impossible." Craig obviously thought it wasn't a good idea at all.

"Why?" William asked them, the frown on his face one of disappointment, "Why is that impossible? You're so concerned with squabbling for the scraps from Longshank's table that you've missed your God-given right to something better. There is a difference between us. You think the people of this country exist to provide you with position. I think you position exists to provide those people with freedom. And I go to make sure that they have it."

And as the debates stared once again, they left the hall with only a pitying look behind them from Meave.

Once fully out into the sunny day, Meave had full intentions to change back into her normal clothes when THE Robert the Bruce rushed over to them

"Wait!" He called, making them all pause to stare at him, "I respect what you said, but remember that these men have lands and castles. It's much to risk."

"And the common man who bleeds on the battlefield, does he risk less?" William pointed out.

All at once, The Bruce led William away from them, intending to talk with him in private. Meave raised an eyebrow as his eyes passed over her, leading William away to talk.

"I wonder what they'll talk about." Hamish spoke, watching as the two seemed to talk.

"No clue, battles probably…" Meave answered him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Let's get the horses." Campbell ordered, and they followed him not surprised that they were quickly joined by William, who told them of his conversation with The Bruce.

"I'd follow him, if only to look at his arse." Meave gave a wink as they rode away, laughing with the men at her joke.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Meave….and she's nothing to be proud of.

Warnings: Gore, making fun of Irishmen, cursing, sex talks, war, not beta'd….the usual

Title: Stupid Irishman!

_**CHAPTER FIVE**_

Finally changed back in her own clothes, with the Irish dresses safely on their way to her mother save for three just in case she needed them, Meave road beside Morrison on their way to York, an evil gleam in her eye.

"Watch it men! Father tells me that the harpy witch is out for blood!" Stephen joked from the other side of William

"Aye, Irishman, your blood!" Meave shot back, wishing so bad that she could just hit him. One because of the joke he made of her and two because she was really getting tired of the look he sent her.

_**~Time Skip~**_

Late at night, Meave and William's men approached the York settlement, the gleam still in her eye.

The plan was to ram the front gates open. Unfortunately the English above them started throwing huge rocks, after that vats of oil down on them, and then flaming arrows that ignited the oil. The poor fighters at the bottom didn't even have a chance as they were burned.

Again, Meave was happy she stocked well on burning salve.

"Come on!" William suddenly shouted, racing forward to drive the ram into the gate.

Following her leaders lead, the soldiers all gave a great cry, driving the ram into the gate. And because the ram was now on fire, the gate caves in thanks to the flames…thus letting in the Scots.

Meave gave a happy cry, charging forward and gutting the nearest English soldier, sounding very much like the harpy that Stephen loved to call her.

"See? Told you she was out for blood!" Said Irishman laughed as he fought past her, taking down his own Englishmen.

Later that night, the battle freshly won, Meave walked around the dead, healing those Scots that couldn't stand, and killing those Englishmen that survived. She was just slicing the throat of one officer when she felt as if something was staring at her from behind.

Slowly standing, Meave cautiously stood up and turned to face a sorry looking young boy that was pointing an arrow at her. "Hello." She gave a small smile to him, hoping to not anger him into letting fly that arrow. There was no one around to save her, so she was on her own.

"Don't move!" The boy ordered. He looked so small and skinny that the threat didn't really do much to affect Meave.

Glancing behind him, Meave saw two other children, girls, huddled together and staring at her fearfully.

They were obviously English, his accent gave it away.

Slowly holding up her hands, dropping her sword where he could see it, Meave stared at him, "Do you really want to be killing me, boy?"

"No…but we must pass."

Raising an eyebrow Meave asked, "Why?" Slowly, Meave glanced behind her, noticing the tall tales signs of a servants exit.

"I said don't move!"

Stiffening, Meave quickly faced him, "Alright, alright…calm down, lad." She took a deep breath, her chest rising, "I'll step aside, right? And you can pass me…no one has to get hurt."

"How can I trust you? You're Scottish!"

"I am Scottish, that's why you should trust me. If I had been English, than you'd have to worry." Meave sent him a disgusted look before stepping off to the side, effectively giving them a clear and free path to escaping. "Leave, go to your homes, and don't let me catch you on the battle field against the Scottish, lad, or I won't hold back."

As quickly as they could, they ran past Meave, and out of the servants exit.

"That was very kind of you." Stephen suddenly materialized out of the darkness, effectively scaring Meave enough that she jumped a few feet in the air. "You must have a soft spot for children."

"Oh, shut up, stupid Irishman." She grumbled, going back to her work and ignoring him as he followed her. She was starting to get very tired of him doing that all the time.

_**~Time Skip~**_

Meave was just finishing her mid-day meal when word was shouted out that a royal entourage had come, flying the banners of truce. Truce by Longshanks himself!

Quickly gearing up, Meave followed those closest to William out to meet the entourage in her normal Irish get up. She figured she'd lull them into thinking she was innocent and then if they tried anything, whip out her sword that was hidden under her dressings and kill them all. Plus, after getting them hemmed, the dresses really were very comfortable, and the Irishman didn't really protest too much, so Meave figured she had the right to look pretty once in a while.

Shocked was she when she saw that a woman had come out of the tent to meet William.

"Wow, a woman…Wonder who she is?" Meave wondered out loud, in little more than a whisper so the English wouldn't over hear them.

"No clue, lassie." Campbell frowned confusedly, shaking his head as the others copied his motion.

In the very least, William didn't look that shocked, considering he's been fighting with a woman all throughout this war. It looked like they exchanged a few words outside, before entering the tent. And before long, someone exited that wasn't the woman or William.

"Excuse me."

Turning, Meave glared at the English soldier before her, who looked quite shocked.

"I can't believe it, it really is a woman!"

Gritting her teeth to hold back a comment, Meave just stared at him as if he was an idiot.

Another soldier joined him, both smiling at her, trying to give her the sense they were trying to welcome her and get her into a sense of trust. "Yes and such a pretty woman she is."

Meave rose an eyebrow, hoping to that her mental message of "go away you idiot" had been received.

"Agreed." The first soldier said, noticing her dress, "But she looks Irish. I heard they had an Irishman in their number, maybe she's his wife."

Unable to take it, Meave blushed darkly and scolded them, her accent giving her away as Scottish, "No way would I be that insane Irishman's wife! And, aye, I'm a woman…a woman that could probably beat your arse anyway, now leave me alone. Go on, I banish you!"

Highly insulted, Meave migrated closer to her group, still red as the men laughed at her. Well, everyone but Stephen, who was sending her questioning, looks.

Suddenly William stormed out of the tent towards them.

"I guess it didn't go well?" Hamish muttered as they watched the entourage pack up and leave.

Facing the leaving entourage, Meave looked up just in time to see the woman watch them from the safety of her carriage, paying an awful lot of attention to William.

'I smell a match.' Meave gave a secret smile, her old match making tendencies rearing their ugly head.

Sometime later, Meave was on the war path! William had been skipping out of his healings for weeks! He had a cut and it was about time for it to be healed properly! Luckily, she found him just as word came that there were personal escorts of the princess.

"William, there's riders approaching!"

"Aye"

Meave hurried to the other side of William, drawing her medical herbs to properly heal him.

"Personal escort of the princess." Hamish turned a questioning look to his friend, not letting William know that Meave had snuck to his other side.

"Aye." William returned his friends look somewhat awkwardly, just as surprised to see them as everyone else.

"You must have made an impression." Hamish continued, just as Meave slapped a healing patch on William's shoulder.

"Aye." William hissed out, turning to glare at Meave, who gave a sheepish grin.

"I didn't think you were in the tent that long." All three walked forward to meet the escorts. Meave just going because she wanted to make sure that patch stayed on just a little longer.

Seriously, William could be such a baby about his wounds.

"Miss." William spoke in French to the young lady, Meave only catching some of it thanks to one of her sisters who had decided to settle in France and was able to teach her other sisters a bit of it.

Her French was rusty though, so she had to fill in a lot of what was being said with common sense.

"A message from my mistress." The lady in waiting held out a message, which William took with a thank you.

William took a moment to read it before becoming very panicked and ran toward the fort.

Meave and Hamish stood before the lady awkwardly, wondering if he would come back. As they waited for a few moments, Hamish kept smiling at the lady, who sent smiles back.

'And thus is the second couple I've noticed.' Meave giggled in her mind as she and Hamish ran away, Meave actually lifting her skirts to keep up.

Soon they were let in on why William had become so panicked, the English were going to attack! They all quickly gathered their wears and went out of York, heading for the battle zone where they would save their beloved Scotland.

Stephen rode ahead of them, just to check to make sure that the Irish were really working with the English.

And all the time he was gone Meave felt like she had lost a certain part of herself. There was no one else to argue with, not that she would at a time like this, but still…it was nice knowing that the Irishman would be there to meet her barb for barb.

William and Hamish seemed to understand her plight, for they kept close but didn't really join Meave into plans, just trusting her to follow orders, which she would. And none was happier than they when Stephen finally caught up with them.

"It's true!" Stephen shouted as he rode up to them, Scots running past them as they talked. "The English ships are moving up from the south. I don't know about the Welsh yet, but the Irish have landed. I had to see it with me own eyes before I could believe it."

Steering her tan stallion to face Stephen, Meave sent him a worried look, thinking what they all were wondering.

"What the hell are the Irish doing fighting with the English?" Hamish beat her to asking.

"I wouldn't worry about them. Didn't I tell you before, it's my island." Stephen sent them a mad grin.

Meave rolled her eyes as William sent Hamish ahead to Edinburgh to assemble the council.

"Your island?" Both William and Meave asked, sending each other strange looks, surprised they had spoken at the same time.

"My island! Yup!" Stephen gave another laugh, riding up so he was on one side of Meave, "Miss me?"

"Not on your life, Irishman!" Meave huffed, urging her horse forward before said Irishman could see the lie in her eyes.

_**~Time Skip~**_

The female Scot marched into the council room in full battle gear, right between Campbell and Stephen, William ahead of them as he stated his terms.

"My army has marched for more days than I can remember, and we still have preparations to make." He told them, "So I'll make this plain. We require every soldier you can summon. Your personal escorts, even yourselves. And we need them now."

"With such a force arrayed against us, it is time to discuss other options." Craig informed him, as if telling a little child.

"What other options?" Meave spoke up, shaking her head as William continued for her.

"Don't you wish at least to lead your men onto the field and barter a better deal with Longshanks before you tuck tail and run?"

"Sir William." The Bruce spoke.

"We cannot defeat this army."

"We can!" William insisted.

"Sir William." Meave turned to look at The Bruce, watching as he rubbed his head as if he had a head ache.

"And we will." William continued as if he hadn't heard Robert the Bruce, walking up and down the long table as if he was a caged wild animal, "We won at Stirling, and you still quibble. We won at York and you would not support us. If you will not stand up with us now then I say you're cowards."

Everything happened just as quickly as it does in battle, one moment everyone was sitting, the next Craig drew his sword and Hamish buried his axe down on the table, shocking the nobles into silence.

"And if you are Scotsmen, I am ashamed to call myself one."

Sending a look to Stephen, they both gave a small nod. Not knowing what they had just agreed upon, just knowing that they had, Meave was able to calm down slightly and relax for a bit as William talked privately with the Bruce.

When they left the meeting, Meave was only reassured that Robert would join them in battle, and they would win.

She had no clue what was to come of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Meave….and she's nothing to be proud of.

Warnings: Gore, making fun of Irishmen, cursing, sex talks, war, not beta'd….the usual

Title: Stupid Irishman!

_**CHAPTER SIX**_

Meave growled as she looked out at the Englishmen, trying to ignore Stephen that was right next to her.

"The Bruce is not coming, William." Hamish told their friend, very worried.

"He'll come." William disagreed while nodding his head, "Mornay and Lochlan have come. So will The Bruce."

Meave gave a gulp, looking out in front of her again, forcing her beating heart to calm down.

After a short pause, where everyone wondered who was going to signal first for the first attack when the English suddenly gave the signal and the Irish charged forward.

Not believing their good fortune, Meave charged forward with the best of them. She thought she had played a great act, charging forward like she actually meant to go out there and kill…but instead meeting the Irish halfway and giving them a small curtsey and a flirty smile, "Good morn, my friends."

The Irish beside her looked shocked to find a woman on the battle field. "A woman?" someone voiced.

Meave quickly opened her mouth to defend herself, but was caught off guard when someone did it for her.

"Aye, and a better fighter than most men here." Stephen peeked from over Meave's shoulder to say before turning to another Irishmen, "Ah, good to see you this morning."

Meave smiled at his retreating back, he was sweet…annoying…but sweet.

"Glad to see you with us." William laughed happily, picking up a flag, "Watch this." He raised the flag and waved it, signaling.

Suddenly flaming arrows shot through the sky, enflaming the battlefield, it had been lucky that Meave had made burn salves before this battle. With a cry, Meave charged forward, fighting with the best of them. Left and right English fell before her, many having underestimated her and her abilities. A larger than most soldier suddenly charged at Meave, raising his sword and bringing it down on the young girl. The dark haired girl quickly rolled out of the way, then got up and made a slashing motion at his side, cutting the large Englishman. He gave a painful shout, turning to cradle his injured side, which gave Meave the perfect chance to kill him by bringing her sword down on his head.

"Meave! Watch out!"

But the warning came too late, as another soldier came from Meave's side, quickly followed by arrows.

Gasping, Meave ducked a blow that was meant to take off her head—and instead for the soldier shot in the back. Which caused him to fall into Meave, thus making the girl cut her arm with the dead man's sword.

Groaning, Meave tried to push the dead weight off of her, but since he was twice her weight, she was in trouble.

"Need help?" Stephen shouted from where he cut off an English head.

Meave growled lowly, "Yes, but not a word, Irishmen!"

He chuckled, while kicking the dead soldier off of her, "Father told me I should keep a close eye on you."

Meave rolled her eyes, "Pervert! Peeping Tom!" And she went back to the battle. There were an awful lot of English, and still more were coming. Where were the nobles?

That question plagued Meave until she had a single, brief, moment to check only to find that they had already abandoned them!

'Traitor's!' Meave thought angrily, taking down one Englishmen after another. They couldn't win like this! They needed help! Where was Bruce!?

Suddenly Meave screamed as someone swung at her, cutting her across her stomach. Meave fell to the ground, staring up as the soldier that had stabbed her slowly approached. She couldn't die this way! Meave started to panic, scooting back, hoping to get away…and coming in contact with a warm pulse.

Puzzled, Meave grasped the warm thing, only to find it was wood, and long like a lance. Then, completely on a whim, she swung the wood—directly hitting the soldier in the face and knocking him to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Meave got up, lance still in hand, cupping her wound.

"Meave!"

Turning and wondering how the Irishmen always seemed to be there, Meave quickly made her way to him and the two horses he must have stolen.

He handed her the reigns of one, "Hurry, we must get William."

Nodding, Meave mounted the horse, careful to keep the lance in hand, and maneuvered her horse to follow Stephen's. It was hard, but Meave kept consciousness up until they had ridden and saved William, and long after.

'Who would have thought Robert the Bruce would have betrayed them?" were Meave's last thoughts before she passed out from blood loss, and fell off her horse.

_**~Time Skip~**_

As night fell, those that survived the battle tend to their wounds without their healing witch to help them.

Stephen had erected Meave's tent and was currently applying the paste that she had used on her back to her stomach. Only her stomach was exposed, and still…it was enough.

A blanket over her chest, the kilt-like skirt over her bottom half, Stephen still couldn't help but stare at her. Her skin, though dirty with blood, soot, sweat, dirt, and a bit of oil was still as pale as the moon that was outside. And as Stephen cleaned her wound area before applying more paste, more and more of that pale skin was revealed.

Looking at her, though in the worst of all looks for her, Stephen suddenly realized…he loved her. As much as he hated her, he also loved her.

She fought with him, and won her own fair share of fights. Although she had a mouth on her that infuriated him, he loved it and the way she was gentle at the same time. They fought and argued and insulted each other left and right…but, at the same time, he realized the only reason he fought back was to get closer to her.

He found himself always by her, or heading toward her, as she often did with him. They were always by each other, always had each other's back.

Stephen loved her; he loved the harpy witch…

Suddenly Meave gave a loud gasp, sitting up and wincing as her stomach protested.

"Wha-What happened?" Meave asked, suddenly noticing her lack of dress, but luckily the blanket had stayed in place thanks to her arms.

"You were injured." Stephen told her, turning his head off to the side as she lay back down and fixed the blanket over her chest.

"Did you…Did you heal my wounds?" Meave answered, staring up at him, obviously too tired to even start arguing with him or forcing him out.

"Yes." Stephen nodded as he gazed down at her with that look in his eye that always made Meave uncomfortable.

"What about the others?" Meave insisted, a panicked look in her eye, "How are they?"

The light died in Stephen's eyes as he looked down at his hands, "Campbell…he's passed."

"Oh, poor Hamish!" Meave cried, mourning the passing to a man that was like a grandfather to her.

"William…he got hurt, but he's doing fine." Stephen continued to tell her the assessments of the battle, not noticing when his hand snaked around to take one of her own.

"This is a hard blow for us, our first loss." Meave whispered, turning her head to the side, unconsciously squeezing the hand in hers.

"Yes, but The Almighty say's we will grow from this…" Stephen sighed, a thumb lightly rubbing her skin.

"I hope your right." Meave sighed, turning her head to face him, just in time to get a kiss directly on the lips from the Irishman.

"I am; when you've hit rock bottom, only one place to go is up." He whispered against her lips before exiting the tent, her medical bag in hand. He had watched her many times before to be able to go and save soldiers, he knew the gist of it and would try his best until Meave was back on her feet. Meanwhile, Meave stared after him in shock, before settling down for a long think.

That which followed was several things at once. First, William decided that he wanted revenge from the nobles, and decided the perfect way to do that was to kill them off one by one. Meave found the idea marvelous and happily encouraged it.

Second, was the lance that had saved Meave's life…had been made into a genuine witches broom.

Meave wasn't an idiot, she knew the old ways. Of witches that could ride brooms if they just found the right piece of wood…she was just lucky she had found hers. So now, not only could she fight on land, but also in the air. And fought they did, like no other time before. Stephen was right; the loss had made them stronger…

Third, Stephen decided that instead of fighting and arguing with Meave all the time, he was going to court her. And at first Meave resisted as much as possible…but she had never met a man more persistent than that Irishman. So, soon, Meave realized that if she couldn't beat him, she would join him, and they got married.

Sure they still argued like no tomorrow, but at least now they both kissed and made up. Little did they know that Morrison had won the bet.

_**~Scene Change~**_

"I love you, Meave." Stephen chuckled, holding said girl close in the privacy of their own grove. They had just been secretly married, Stephen not wanting some English Lord to have his way with HIS wife.

"Hn," Meave gave a breathy chuckle, "It took me forever to realize it…but I love you too," She grinned, "you stupid, insane, Irishman."

Leaning down, Stephen started to delicately kiss, lick, and bite at Meave's skin, using his hands to hold her close, and to remove her wedding gown. "You insult me on our wedding night?"

"I insult you every night, every day." Meave suddenly gave a gasp, "Every moment!"

Taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking then licking it, Stephen whispered against her skin with hot breath, "And how can I make you stop?"

"Oh, I think I can think of a few ways…" Meave smirked, allowing her new husband to lay her down on a bed of furs, moss, and blankets.

Together they made love that night, happy to finally agree on something.

_**~Time Skip~**_

Newly married, Meave stood beside her husband as they observed the small house where two English soldiers guard the door. A chill went down the Witch's back, causing her to grip at her boom more tightly. She was still learning to fly, but if the need called for it, she could easily take out several men from the air.

Slowly, so as not to raise suspicion, William and Hamish approached the guards and pushed them into the hut, locking them in. As this was being done Meave and Stephen pushed a cart up to the door to barricade it.

Grinning evilly, Meave than took to the air, balancing delicately in the air as she poured tar on the roof…and then set fire to it, burning the would-be assassins inside.

Their screams could be heard from miles around, and Meave thanked the Almighty that they had gotten a message from the Princess Isabella in time.

Later that night, just as William set out to meet with said Princess, Meave suddenly giggled.

Having never heard his new wife giggle, Stephen couldn't help but stare and ask her if she had lost her mind.

"I'm not you, Irishman." Meave glared at him, "I'm not insane. I have a reason to be laughing…"

"And that would be?" Stephen moved closer to her, pulling the dark haired Witch closer to his body.

Blushing red, Meave looked around to make sure they weren't being spied on before telling him, "When William Wallace goes to meet with Princess Isabella tonight…they will make love."

Stephen raised one eye brow, moving Meave's dark hair out of the way and kissing her neck, "And how do you know this?"

"I just do…" Meave gasped out, meeting her husband in a heated kiss. She couldn't believe she had waited so long to have this, that she had been so stubborn that she had missed out on more of this.


End file.
